


A Well-Loved Mace

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Offscreen Character Death (Qui), Depa Feels?, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi, Nonstandard a/b/o, Omega Mace, Technically A/B/O, brief panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Mace struggles to find the right words and face expressions. He finds people are hard to read... but discovers he is surrounded by people who care deeply about his well-being. It just takes him some time to find them all.
Relationships: Adi Gallia/Mace Windu, Depa Billaba & Mace Windu, Kit Fisto/Mace Windu, Mace Windu & T'ra Saa, Mace Windu/Cin Drallig, Mace Windu/The Daughter, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn/Mace Windu
Comments: 19
Kudos: 163
Collections: Mace Windu Fandom Safe Space, Mace Windu Rare Pairs





	A Well-Loved Mace

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been ready since May.
> 
> Padawan Mace is 18 at the start of this story.

Mace Windu's first heat was a cruel motherfripper, so fortunately, he had his designated alpha picked out well in advance.

Qui-Gon Jinn was the gentlest, most soft-spoken alpha in their age group, and Mace's body was beating him up so much he had little interest in roughhousing that first time.

Mace's personality _hated_ feeling unable to protect himself, but Qui-Gon somehow made it seem like Mace was never actually out of control of the situation. Qui-Gon afforded him the same courtesy as he would have given to any alpha or beta lover he might take.

At the beginning, Mace felt frustrated by his own biology, but Qui-Gon soothed away his self-conscious grumbles with kisses that certainly shifted Mace's attention away from the awful sensation of his organs shifting around.

“I don't want pups,” Mace sighed, one last time, into Qui-Gon's shoulder, knowing that soon heat-need would be upon him and he'd be begging for Qui-Gon's knot. “So why do I have to have the _equipment_ for them?”

Qui-Gon hugged him tight, surprising Mace. “I don't know.”

There, in the safety of that compassionate embrace, Mace allowed himself the few tears he'd refused to let fall before.

Qui-Gon didn't freak out like so many of the male padawans did when in the vicinity of tears. He simply held on until Mace's body drove the tears far away and had him desperately pulling at Qui-Gon's tunics and his own.

* * *

The first few heats were the hardest.

Mace wasn't sure he was comfortable with the fact that in heat madness, he enjoyed the sex he wasn't entirely sure he wanted in the rest of his life. Long moments were spent curled up beside his master on their couch, cuddling into T'ra Saa, and feeling safe only there because as a sentient tree, his master had no sexuality to speak of. Unless she reverted to non-sentient status, planted herself somewhere and became a tree that would then bear flowers, that is. Which she had no intention of doing any time soon.

Mace couldn't help but wonder if people gravitated to him _only_ because they knew that once a month he would beg for a cock, _any_ cock. Social interactions were difficult enough to manage without the added worry.

He managed most days to mimic what he saw the other padawans doing in conversation and behavior patterns, but Mace wasn't always sure _why_ these things were the norm.

He just knew everyone didn't react well if he just stared at them instead of laughing when everyone else laughed, or...

A fibrous arm squeezed him tight, and Mace sighed.

“Your worry is growing, Padawan mine,” T'raa murmured.

Mace turned his head to find her kind eyes. “How do you know when someone likes you for _you_?”

“By how they treat you when you aren't forcing yourself to be like the others.”

Perhaps.

But when Mace _didn't_ keep his mouth resolutely shut, he would say things that left other people reacting... badly. And Mace wasn't even sure why, ninety percent of the time.

“Do you think Qui-Gon likes you for you?” T'ra asked.

Mace's gaze faltered and fell. “I don't know.”

“Why don't you ask him? I've observed him to be an honest lad.”

So that's what Padawan Windu decided to do.

* * *

Qui-Gon lay on his side, an elbow propping him up while he stared at Mace.

Mace thought he looked surprised. That was the face humans made when surprised, right?

It didn't help that many species had completely _different_ tells than any of the others—

“Mace... I don't think you realize how amazing you are.”

Mace's eyebrow arched. “Sure,” he scoffed. “I don't say the right things, or look the right ways, and even my _lightsaber crystal_ decided our bond required something completely different.”

“Hey.” Qui-Gon's large hand reached out and cradled Mace's smaller one. “The crystal called to you. It looked through all the initiates in the caves, saw your heart, and picked _you._ That pure, precious little gem. Out of ten thousand options, it chose you. And yes, most crystals' songs appear blue or green, and those of Jedi destined to be Guards, yellow... but trust your crystal, Mace.”

“It's halfway between blue and _red._ ”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “And _green_ is halfway between blue and yellow. That means nothing, Mace. All one has to do is _listen_ to your crystal to know you haven't harmed it. There's nothing wrong with you, Mace, and just because your crystal sees you as one in a million? I think it would grieve to think you doubt yourself because it sang so fervently to you.”

“But I _am_ different,” Mace protested, ignoring Qui-Gon's... unreasonable words. If T'ra were here, Mace thought she might have called it poetry? Words that weren't _true_ but had a form of truth hidden in them and picked to be beautiful? “I'm not like the others. I'm not like _you._ ”

A rough thumb caressed the back of his hand. “That's okay. Different isn't bad. If your difference was _wrong,_ a crystal would never have entrusted itself to you.”

 _Oh._ Well, _that_ was true.

“And you glow in the Force,” Qui-Gon murmured. “I know your strength is in the Cosmic Force, so you probably don't really see it, but you're... kind of a supernova of the Living Force. Just, all these streamers of light spiraling around you and glittering. You're... beautiful, Mace.”  
Mace's eyes widened.

“And I don't know why you decided to trust me with your heats, but I feel so lucky that you _do_ trust me that much.”

Again, that worry returned. “I'm not looking for a _boyfriend_.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth he cringed, wondering if he'd phrased them in a way that would result in pain— he hadn't meant to hurt Qui-Gon—

“I know,” Qui-Gon murmured, a gentle smile lighting his face. “And that's okay.”

Mace wanted to express how Qui-Gon made him feel, how full his heart felt in this moment, but he couldn't find words.

Understanding settled in the Force around them, and Mace realized it was okay.

Qui-Gon accepted him completely.

A tear slipped from Mace's lashes.

* * *

Newly-made Knight Windu no longer doubted his crystal. It had saved his life too many times, and its song remained steady and true, soothing his heart by its mere presence at his side.

He still didn't know why it had decided to do something so unusual, but... maybe...

_Maybe it's different. Like me._

A tiny chip of clear as glass stone, with a surprise when light was channeled through it.

It was certainly unexpected.

And Mace was trying to decide that unexpected wasn't always bad. T'ra said that sometimes unexpected was good. Qui-Gon reveled in the unexpected, certainly.

But in Mace's experience....

Unexpected was _nearly always_ bad.

Like those unexpected _land mines_ that nearly took off his damn leg. Or the fripping _Mandalorian hunter_ who decided they wanted Mace's scalp on their belt. Or that thrice-accursed pollen allergy to _every karking flower_ on Corellia.

Yep. No one saw that one coming.

And then there was the day when his heat came early, and Knight Jinn had not yet returned to the Temple.

Mace _needed_ to race to his former master, to have her help him create a framework for his life, since it had fallen into jumbles and he couldn't think slowly enough to put it back together—

But Tr'a wasn't on planet either.

 _And_ out of comlink range.

He crouched down against the wall, unable to leave the hallway, and tucked his head.

What in hell's name was he going to do? He didn't have time to not know, he had to figure it out, there wasn't any margin for mistakes, he—

“Mace?”

He couldn't look up, but he recognized Adi's voice. And he sensed Kit right behind her.

“Do you have someone to spend your heat with, since Qui-Gon isn't back?”

Mace shook his head.

“If you wanted to with Kit or me, that would be okay,” Adi murmured, making sure her voice wasn't too loud.

He appreciated it.

The nautolan sat down beside him, but not too close. It relieved Mace. Too many stresses already, didn't need another one.

“Adi's right.”

Mace still couldn't manage to look either in the eye. _Make a choice, make a choice._

He couldn't.

His crystal hummed softly to him, its mesmeric, repeating melody. The one only for him, that only he could hear.

It calmed his heart, just a little.

Adi and Kit hadn't been his pick. Qui-Gon had been his pick.

_And now I have to pick someone else, or pick myself._

He thought about it for a long moment.

He didn't care for his heats... but he liked them _less_ alone. But could he trust _either_ of them? He saw them every day, of course, had known them since they were all babies in the nursery together, but...

Neither pushed him. They just sat there, patient.

It would be... too much to expect more than _one_ person could accept Mace completely. People just didn't like Mace, except for Qui-Gon and T'ra. He was already lucky, to have them at _all._ He couldn't be lucky enough for more.

Only people who were likable were that lucky.

And for the ten thousandth time, Mace Windu mourned that the language of _likable_ was something so colossally confusing.

_What would Qui-Gon suggest I do?_

Qui-Gon trusted Adi. In fact, Qui-Gon and Adi had sex sometimes, and liked each other all the time. And Mace never saw either Adi or Kit be mean to anyone. They didn't laugh at people who got hurt or because they didn't understand something.

Maybe...

Another wave of need welled up through Mace, making him shiver.

Maybe he would risk it.

“Okay,” he said at last, the word difficult to pull out. “Both.”  
A hand reached out to help him to his feet, and after staring at it for a long moment, Mace took it and followed his fellow knights to Adi's room.

* * *

It wasn't quite as easy as it had been with Qui-Gon. They needed more words than Qui-Gon did to understand what Mace wanted.

In the end, though, between their caution, close attention to his smallest signals, and Mace's mind-numbing need, they found their way into pleasure until Mace's body finally gave him a break.

They both were betas, but Kit knew how to slip his fingers in beside his dick and quirk them to fake Mace's body into thinking it had been knotted.

It was in that rather fervent bout of sex that Mace discovered what having his own cock engulfed within a woman felt like. He rather liked it.

Body sated, Mace simply lay still on the bed, not sure what to do next. Qui-Gon always just lay across from him, silent or perhaps trading a few words, until Mace was ready to leave and got up to go.

Adi had asked if it was okay to snuggle, and Mace had told her yes, because he did sometimes like it when Qui-Gon tucked Mace against his larger body. Adi curled behind Mace, her unclothed body warm against his back.

Kit had possession of one of Mace's hands, and was tracing his thumb slowly over the pads of each of Mace's fingers, down to circle each joint, and then slid still farther down to rub his callous gently into Mace's palm, the massaging deep and rather attention consuming for Mace.

Mace wasn't entirely sure whether he liked it or not, but he didn't _dislike_ it enough to tell Kit to immediately stop.

Mace's crystal, in his saber on the table near the bed, still didn't warn of danger, and these two didn't seem to expect him to... well, they didn't seem to _expect_ things. But then, maybe Mace just hadn't figured out they were waiting yet.

Maybe he was already failing some secret test everyone but him knew about.

He tensed, brow furrowing. Should he... _ask_? Or would that make it _worse_?

“It's okay,” Adi murmured behind him, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. “You're safe here.”

Mace searched Kit's eyes, but only the swirls of maroon set in black stared back.

And then Kit's beautiful smile revealed the Nautolan's teeth. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes. My muscles are relaxed. The temperature is nice. And my hand feels good.”

Kit's smile broadened. “Then maybe stay with us, for just a bit, and stay feeling good?”

That seemed reasonable.

* * *

Mace felt concern that Adi and Kit might think... _something_ in the wake of his heat. The mysterious obligations that other people formed webs of, and that if they weren't met, resulted in hurt feelings.

And... once Qui-Gon was back, Mace had every intention of returning to _his_ bed for his heats.

Much to his relief, Adi and Kit seemed to understand.

And to his surprise, he discovered that now, when Adi joined Qui-Gon and Mace at one of the dining tables, Mace no longer felt uncomfortable.

_I think she might be safe._

She didn't glare at him when he talked, and because of that, Mace didn't feel he needed to stop his conversations with Qui-Gon when she approached.

And even if Mace didn't particularly understand why she sometimes laughed at things Qui-Gon said, Mace did like the sound of it.

* * *

The world outside the Temple was not a very pleasant place.

Mace wasn't entirely sure why, but some people out there seemed to think he was angry all the time. But what had him rattled and hurting inside was today, someone had whispered that he was _mean._

A _kid,_ no less. Who Mace would do everything in his power to keep safe.

Since he'd heard people say Kit was very friendly and likable more times than Mace could count, Mace decided to ask _him_ about it. He corralled his green person into a safe place— Adi's room counted these days, and it had been closest once he found Kit— and asked, “Why do people think I'm mean? Mean is laughing at people when they don't understand something, or when they're hurting. I don't laugh at people. I don't understand.” He was gripping Kit's hand tight.

The Nautolan placed his other hand on top of Mace's in a comforting gesture.

“You think about a lot of things, don't you?” Kit asked.

“Yes.”

“And when you think hard, you look intense. Some people assume you're thinking about them.”

Mace shook his head. “Sometimes I _am._ ”

“Are they mean thoughts?”

“No.”

Kit coaxed Mace's fingers to unclench, then slotted their fingers together. “Are you alright?”

“No.”

And Kit didn't flood Mace with words to try to fix it. Instead he gave a nod, his eyes soft with an understanding pain, and acknowledged, “Okay.”

* * *

Mace found a solution that didn't prevent the whispers while he was on missions, but it _did_ allow him to keep focused.

He spoke only for an exchange of absolutely necessary information. He didn't try to compliment people, or make small talk, or do any of the things that resulted in people yelling at him or crying.

They didn't like it that he didn't say those very strange things...

But at least the Temple wasn't receiving complaints anymore.

If he had things he wanted to say, he said them to his safe people.

And then, one day, he met a tiny girl with the most amazing eyes, and a profusion of black braids. Something in his heart clicked, and the youngling's eyes went wide, and Mace fled.

Thankfully, T'ra was available.

Mace, too flustered to find words, explained how it felt by punching his palm.

She watched, listening to what words he _did_ try out, and then her face stretched into a smile. “Oh, Mace! I've felt that too.”

“You have?”

“Yes, when I first met you.”  
“Oh.”

And then Mace needed some time alone to think.

It took him a couple days before he ventured into the youngling wing to seek out his little vision.

He didn't want to make her cry.

He found the four-year-old again, and this time, she slipped her hand into his when he sat down next to her.

He didn't want to say anything wrong, so he didn't say anything at all, but she didn't seem confused by it. She held his hand in hers and continued drawing her picture with the other.

He watched her work, and marveled at how whole his soul felt with hers resting beside it.

* * *

Mace was twenty-seven years old when he became Depa Billaba's master, and Depa was twelve.

The Force had whispered it so years before, and now that they both were ready, Mace's safe people welcomed Depa's inquisitive mind into their circle.

Having a padawan completely changed Mace's routines, and adjusted which parts of the Temple he visited. It brought him into contact with other Jedi, and with some of them, he had to communicate about Depa's continued lessons.

It had taken a long time to grow accustomed to their power over him, but he had come to no longer hate his heats. Sometimes he even looked forward to them, and to the way his body felt when one of his heat partners linked their body with his.

He found a few more of those heat partners, and each time he decided to try sex with a new person, the less scary it became.

He didn't ask people who he had seen experience pain from his words in the past, because after sex, sometimes words were most likely to end in disaster. He'd been hyper aware of the possibility for all of his mature life, and it was one reason why he'd picked Qui-Gon so carefully in the beginning. He'd never seen Qui-Gon react with hurt or anger to Mace's words.

There were sometimes— not all the time, but occasionally— when Mace felt interested in sex outside of his heats. Sometimes for one of his heat partners, sometimes for someone new.

He'd found a somewhat good screening method. If a new interesting Jedi hadn't already misunderstood him during the contact they'd already had, Mace just point blank asked, “Do you want sex with me?”

Those who scrunched their noses usually turned out a bit too complicated for Mace. They needed words presented in certain ways. So even if they said yes, he would retreat.

But those who made surprised faces and then thoughtful ones, when _those_ ones said yes?

He often decided to risk it.

And rarely did they run away crying after sex because he'd told them it was nice.

He still wasn't sure why that one knight had been so offended when he'd said that to her as he'd stood to leave her room.

Honest compliments weren't always enough, for some reason.

* * *

There came a day when Qui-Gon died.

A lot of people, even some he didn't know really well, told Mace they were sorry, and they searched his eyes and Force signature for something.

Mace didn't know what.

There was a weird _thing_ in Mace's heart. He wasn't sure it was pain, and it didn't result in tears, but it was there and it hadn't been there before. It wasn't nice. It wasn't comfortable. It left him staring at Qui-Gon's empty seat at the dining table, feeling lost.

Adi cried. Mace wondered if it would be better if he found a way to make himself cry. It was the thing to do, in these situations, he'd observed.

So when T'ra brought him back to her rooms, because he wasn't sure where to go or what to do, he perched on the edge of her couch, watched her brew tea, and asked, “Should I cry, Master?”

“Only if you feel you want to, Mace.” She brought him tea and sat with him as the evening faded into night.

He abandoned the idea of chopping up Corellian onions, and instead, just waited.

He wasn't even sure what he was waiting for.

* * *

Kenobi had stared at him a lot, over the last few years, always looking away and blushing when Mace stared back.

It could mean several things. It could mean he thought Mace mean, or he thought Mace strange, or wanted sex with Mace.

Roll the dice.

He'd been a padawan at the time, and that hadn't seemed right. There was more to being an adult than age, and Mace didn't ask padawans for sex.

But Kenobi had been a knight for a while now, and people said he did not seem happy. That he seemed tired and lonely.

Mace wanted to help, knew what it was like to have no idea what to do with a padawan. Depa still spent time with him, so apparently children were less breakable than Mace had feared. She was kind, a good person, and Mace was very proud of her.

He hadn't seemed to break her.

He knew Kenobi was kind and smart, and if Kenobi was scared, maybe some words would help. T'ra always knew what to say.

Mace tried. Kenobi turned crimson, then deathly pale, eyes wide, lips parted, and then tears had shimmered in his eyes. Panicked, Mace tried to retreat.

Kenobi stayed him with a hand on his arm. “I think I understand,” Kenobi replied, his voice not quite steady. “Thank you.”

Mace didn't know what to make of that. Kenobi looked hurt, but did not want Mace to run away?

Perhaps Mace had made Kenobi miss Qui-Gon more. Mace's stomach turned over at the thought, a queasy, awful feeling.

“It's alright,” Kenobi murmured with a weak smile.

Mace nodded, wary.

“Thank you for coming by.”

* * *

Mace had been concerned that Kenobi might not want to talk to him again, especially since Kenobi would send him small glances, paired with something that _might_ have been a smile or might have been a grimace, and turned crimson all up to the tips of his ears.

Kit saw it one day, many years later, during breakfast. He watched them both for a minute, then leaned close to Mace and whispered, “He's into you.”

“No. I tried to talk to him a long time ago. My words weren't right.”

Kit nudged a hip into Mace's. “He's blushing for you, and it's not the upset kind.”

“He wants sex?” Mace clarified.

Kit shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe he wants to talk to you more.”

That didn't seem likely, but Mace _had_ been enjoying lying on his back beside Cin Drallig up on the roof of the Temple, staring up at the stars and... talking. Cin never thought he was mean...

_But I made Kenobi cry._

* * *

Mace didn't pursue it. It seemed a bit complicated.

Geonosis happened, and was _awful._ The war was ick. And being a General?

Commander Ponds was amazing. He was brave, kind, loyal, and he looked good. Really good.

Mace wanted to ask him about sex, but Ponds was technically a slave, and that didn't seem right.

Kenobi was appointed to the Council. Mace liked that. He'd voted for that. Kenobi was smart about the battlefield, like Mace, but he also was clever with words, and they needed that. It was much better to send Kenobi to talk to the chancellor than when Mace went.

Depa always wrote something out beforehand, when Mace _had_ to do it, and he memorized the words. Just to be sure.

And when he worried, Yoda reminded him time and again that Mace had been elected to the Council, and to lead the entire Order, because the Jedi trusted him. He was good enough for them. They knew him, and saw his heart.

T'ra was proud enough she might burst. It always made Mace feel warm inside when he went to see her, these days, and she called him Master Windu. Not because she had to, but because she liked it.

* * *

Kenobi had been on the Council for a while, before Mace finally asked him, “Do you want sex with me?”

The table fell silent, some faces turned to look at Kenobi, who turned so red Mace was almost concerned he might pass out or have some form of attack, but Kenobi threw back, “ _Gods,_ yes.”

It had people chuckling, but they were all Mace's safe people, so he didn't worry about it. They weren't laughing _at_ Mace, because they didn't do that kind of thing, so it meant they were happy about something else.

Mace could accept that. He was happy too, and curious to see what kind of sex Kenobi liked. So he continued his breakfast and watched as Kenobi's coloring did odd things. It nearly went normal, then he saw Mace watching him, and it blossomed pink again, then faded, and just a little smile played with his lips as the table's discussion moved on to the war. Always, always the war.

Mace didn't think Kenobi was smiling about the war.

* * *

Sex with Kenobi was different. His body was of a small build, much smaller than Mace, and he was an alpha. He was gentle and quiet, and really, _really_ liked kissing.

What was more unusual about him was that he didn't actually want to fit inside Mace, which Mace found unusual, because in his experience, most alphas enjoyed putting cocks in _something._

Obi-Wan seemed happiest with Mace's hand, however, and with _Mace's_ cock deep inside _him._

He also didn't seem to enjoy having sex with more than one person at a time in his life, and there was something soft in his eyes when they coupled, and he really, _really_ needed cuddling after.

There was a fragility to Obi-Wan that Mace felt quite concerned about, that only appeared when Obi-Wan sat impaled on Mace's length, Obi-Wan's head tipped back, throat exposed, gasping in pleasure, eyes glazed.

Mace wasn't entirely sure what it was that Obi-Wan needed, though he wanted to meet Obi-Wan half way, heart-wise, and he expressed that concern once, while Obi-Wan lay beside him, exhausted from sex.

Obi-Wan had promised then to tell Mace what he needed, to never force Mace to guess.

That's how Mace knew Obi-Wan needed cuddling after sex, and how he knew when Obi-Wan felt stable enough for them to part ways. It's how Mace knew that Obi-Wan only wanted Mace, but that he did not feel hurt by Mace's other safe people.

It's how Mace knew Obi-Wan wanted to feel beautiful, during sex.

Mace also discovered that for the most part, if he wanted sex outside of a heat, most any of the people he trusted with that were fine. It was nice with any of them.

But it was a different feeling inside, when he wanted sex with Obi-Wan. There was something soul-baring in the way Obi-Wan gave himself, and Mace wasn't sure what to make of it, but it _was_ beautiful. It was incredible, and Mace felt awe sometimes, when he saw what Obi-Wan looked like in the Force.

* * *

Mortis was...

Unpleasant.

Far too many unexpected things, almost _none_ of them nice. Skywalker was about as baffling and erratic as usual, and Obi-Wan simply watched everything with wide eyes, as if he saw something different from all the rest of them.

Skywalker choked on his tongue when Mace asked the Daughter if she wanted sex, and Obi-Wan's eyes flew wide with shock— were you not supposed to ask deities for sex, then?— and then crinkled with joy as he looked at Mace and smiled.

As the Daughter turned to lead Mace somewhere, having given him a _yes_ after a long, thoughtful pause, Obi-Wan grinned at him, and leaned close to whisper into his ear, “I love you.”

Mace smiled back.

Maybe Mortis wouldn't be _all_ bad.

* * *

Mace knelt in the grass by the pond they had scattered Qui-Gon's ashes in.

It had been a long time ago, since Mace was so young and surrounded by people he was afraid to reach out to.

Now he was the Master of the Order, he had a battalion of clones who never looked at him like he was confusing, he had people around him who connected in various ways. He had a master and a former padawan, a _grand-padawan,_ though Caleb still looked just a bit scared of him right now. Depa said he would relax as time went on.

He had people he enjoyed heats with, and he had Obi-Wan, which was something else entirely. Kisses with Obi-Wan sent little tingles through Mace's heart and those were very nice.

Obi-Wan always looked to him with such love and trust, and _gratitude,_ as if Mace in his life was somehow a gift.

And when Mace looked at the precious people who _liked_ him, who called him lover or friend or father or padawan or whatever else they called him—

Obi-Wan called him beloved, which was a funny word—

Mace actually felt like he deserved it.

When he tried to express that idea to Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan looked so sad, and then he cuddled into Mace's lap, pressed gentle kisses to his lips and swore in between kisses that, “you,” kiss, “are,” kiss, “whole,” kiss, “and beautiful,” kiss, “and your heart,” _kiss_ , “is so _big_ ” kiss—!

Mace stared into his eyes, felt truth ring in the Force, Obi-Wan believed it to his deepest core.

“And you know,” Obi-Wan said, with that sly look on his face that Mace liked but wasn't sure how to interpret, “the Light side of the Force herself chose to have sex with you, so I'd say that's pretty special.”

Mace scoffed. “No one else _asked_.”

Obi-Wan seemed to radiate delight into the Force.

“You are right about that.” Obi-Wan wriggled in Mace's lap and asked, “Want sex with me? Right now?”

Mace nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“It sure does,” Obi-Wan agreed, opening his mouth to let Mace lick all around inside it, in the way that felt good for them both.

That was licking, though. Not kissing.

One word could mean two _very_ different things.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had told him long ago he liked licking _and_ kissing, so it was all good.


End file.
